The Things I Do For You, Sherlock Holmes!
Chapter One – I Have Begun To Notice Your Absence
"Yes, Lestrade, the photos are on my laptop! I thought you'd seen them already! This will just be a waste of everyone's time! Look at them while I go tell that moron Anderson he's disturbing my crime scene like a hippopotamus disturbs a swamp!" with a flash of his coat, the world's only consulting detective was off. Sighing to himself, Lestrade shook his head and started looking at the photos of the second body Sherlock had found.
Ten minutes later, Lestrade had inferred all he could about the photos (just that a man was lying dead, really, and that he was in his late sixties, to which Sherlock had later replied, 'Well done, Lestrade! You've only missed sixty three points of relevant data out of sixty four! Definitely an improvement from last time!'). With nothing constructive to do ('Newsflash!'), he sat at the computer for a while, before he noticed Sherlock's emails were open. Purely out of curiosity, he began to read through them, starting from the ones dated within the last week of the previous month.
Sent: 11.30pm, Friday 30th December
From .watson to .uk
Dear Sherlock,
It's nice here. Life's really slow and quiet – nothing at all like London, and especially not like our London. Never thought I would say this, but it's been five days and I already miss chasing criminals through the London alleyways. Funny, huh? Can't wait till I get home. Hopefully there'll be a case. Just one more week…
You really should have come, you know. I bet you would have changed the speed of things in the local police stations here too. What are you doing? Are the flat walls still alive? Oh, and on a serious note – have you been eating? You promised you'd eat once a day. It feels odd without you here. Nobody to nag, haha. Another thing I never thought I would miss.
If you do have a case, try not to get hurt, okay? I'd prefer you not to go to some other stupid doctor…mostly because you'd do their head in, huh? Well, stay safe, and get some sleep. I'll expect a reply soon, though.
Yours Always,
John Watson.
Sent: 11.45pm, Friday 30th December
From .uk to .watson
Dear John,
Slow and quiet? Dull. If you're missing the chases, I suggest you come home. I've got a particularly thrilling one coming up with the Carlton Killer Case. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I know you've been keeping up to date with the London news, trying to guess – using your knowledge of my rating system for how interesting cases are or aren't (they're usually the latter) – which cases I am or am not taking on. Don't, John, guessing is destructive to the logical faculty.
As for the flat walls, the laws of nature say they weren't alive to begin with, but I will say that in the first day you were in Paris – the horrendously peaceful place – Mr. Smiley did get a companion. If I have to suffer one, it is only fair that he does too. Well, I say 'suffer'…but often, your companionship on cases is…acceptable. A trustworthy comrade is always useful when chasing down a murderer, I've found. And as for your worrying, fear not. Mrs. Hudson has taken over the role of 'mother' – which, by the way, you fill quite admirably on a daily basis. She even asked me to drink milk before bed! Milk, John!
If I get hurt on a case, it will only be due to my own recklessness, and in addition, I would not even entertain the idea of seeing another doctor. They are even more idiotic and average than you are. It is out of the question. I'm sure a few cuts and bruises won't kill me, John, at least not until you get home. The last two things on your list, though, are proving slightly harder to keep up. Staying safe? Have you ever known me to avoid danger by choice? And as for sleeping, I can't, John! I've tried playing violin but it doesn't help!
I must say that unlike when you go to work, these past few days I have begun to notice your absence. Odd, isn't it? I hope it isn't sentiment. As you well know, I don't do sentiment. Anyway, I've got to go see Lestrade about some new evidence shortly. Will reply when I get back, text me if it's urgent. Take care, and believe me to be,
Yours Sincerely,
Sherlock Holmes.
Sent: 12.00am, Saturday 31st December
From .watson to .uk
Dear Sherlock,
Really? I wish I could come home. But my return ticket's already booked for next week. More idiotic and average than me? Well, I guess I should thank you for the…praise? It's the best I can get from the world's only consulting detective, anyway. Wait…Mrs. Hudson told you to have milk before bed? I think she must finally agree with me about your mental age being three. Maybe Mr. Smiley's new wife convinced her. Don't ask how I know his companion is a girl, because I'll tell you anyway.
Sherlock Holmes was bored. Sherlock Holmes was very bored. So he made another smiley face on the wall with bullets. But this time, he gave it hair. Long hair. Possibly curly? It would take more time, hence more bullets, and ergo less boredom. There. Your deductions about me keeping up with the London news are matched by your 'trustworthy comrade'! Well…almost.
You can't get to sleep? Poor violin. Poor 221b. Poor Baker Street. It must be torture for them all. I can just hear you whining. Yes, you do whine, and yes, I can indeed hear it…in my head. Have you tried counting corpses? No, wait, too much data. Too much thinking. Umm…hang on…what about violins?! Try counting violins instead of playing them! Stradivarius violin, Sherlock-Tortured Violin, you get the idea…
You 'have begun to notice my absence'? Yeah, Sherlock, I miss you too. Quite a lot. Unfortunately, I'm not sure if yours is sentiment or just you missing waking me up to make tea for you at two in the morning. Still, it's sweet of you. Hope the evidence sheds some light…unless it means the case is closed quicker. That won't be good for the sanity of humankind.
Yours Always,
John Watson
As Lestrade read, he did so with soft chuckles and 'awwws'. It was the most adorable thing he had ever read, even better than John's emails to his girlfriends, one or two of which Lestrade had been sent by accident – which had resulted in a very embarrassed John Watson. For the hundredth time in his life, Lestrade could not believe the two were not a couple. Here was John, up until midnight, emailing his flatmate and telling him to eat and sleep, while the world's only high functioning sociopath responded – in his own peculiar way – that he missed his blogger. It was absolutely adorable.